Having
by alwayslovingyou
Summary: And she wants to melt, and everything is red. Red like roses. Like blood. Hell. And it is heaven. LP/ONESHOT


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DISCLAIMER: I don't own One Tree Hill, nor do I own My Hands Up by Trespassers William.

* * *

_Turning into something I can't cope  
with not having  
stop, stop it_

* * *

_having by alwayslovingyou_

It is hard to say no.

It is always so hard to make a any kind of sound when he is around. Around like in her room. Around like close to her, sitting next to her.

Around like right now, his chest to her back. That kind of around.

It is hard to say no when he comes in, so weak and broken, torn apart without a real reason actually. But she will never tell him that. Because as much as he needs her, she will probably always need him more.

Always.

-

This, this around thing, him coming to her, it is only a need. A simple primal need to lose your mind, your body, your heart in a simple act of sex.

It is only sex.

He would never call it fucking, after all, they are friends.

She would never call it love making, after all, they are not lovers.

And only thing that is left is that small word, yet so powerful it could break many, many hearts. It did.

It will.

-

He will never tell, but his heart did break. It cracked. Died.

When she told him she loves him. Jake.

And he feels like she never cared for him. At all.

-

She will never tell, but she is hurting. Slowly. Painfully.

All the time when she sees him with her. Brooke.

And she feels like he never actually knew her. At all.

-

But he comes to her. On rainy nights like this one, he creeps in, his footsteps quiet and loud, slow and fast, light and heavy.

He comes to her with a fire in his eyes, the same fire she wanted to tame so long ago.

It is always different, and that is what it makes it so hard to say no.

His hands not once touch her the way they did the night before. Not once. They always find a new way to make her close her eyes in pure pleasure, make her shiver, make her ask for more.

-

It is a need. A simple need to feel her breathing under him. To watch her while she sleeps, so soundly, so peacefully, so beautifully.

It is a need to take her, and never have her. Because having her could break her. Brooke. Jake.

Him.

-

He is really selfish if you think about it. He wants to have it all. To have a girlfriend, and a lover. But when…

When did she become the lover?

Was it in between the passionate kisses? Or maybe the needy touches? Or was it when the silence spoke for them like they never really could?

Was it then? Or is it now?

Is it when he holds her so close you can't tell where she begins and he ends? Is it when she kisses the corner of his mouth and shyly looks away? Is it when she blushes every time they lay naked, him pinning her to her mattress, and she feels _him _close to her? Is it when he looks into her eyes every time they come together in pure bliss?

Or was it the night before, when he was leaving, so she let the tears fall down, the bitter taste of them making her sick, to only find him running back to her, kissing her desperately, passionately?

-

It is wrong for him to cheat on Brooke. It is wrong from her to love Jake, and do this with Lucas.

It is simply wrong to have sex if you don't love the other person.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

-

He comes in the night. Goes with the morning light.

He lies to her. When he says goodbye, every time it is a lie. When he says it is only because he need someone else, other than Brooke.

He speaks the truth when she sleeps. He whispers it, afraid of it. He tells her he loves her.

-

She never hears him say it.

Really, she doesn't. She hears the words, but she _doesn't_.

Because if she did, many hearts would break.

-

_His hands work on her tank top, he pulls it over her head fast, and throws it away into the darkness. The same darkness which holds them close together. Still, it isn't dark enough for him not to care. He stops, and stares. Stares like a stupid fifteen-year-old horny teenage boy who never saw woman's chest before._

_He has. Many-well, for his age-times. But this is different. This is Peyton._

_She shifts, cutting the dark cloak with her pale skin. Starlight, but there are no stars tonight. The rain pounds on the windows, making her shiver not from the coldness, but from the never the same sound of rain. Sometimes it gives her comfort, sometimes it gives her the chills. Other times, she just wants to go out, and melt._

_Melt into the rain, into the ground, into the Earth. Sometimes. It is same with him._

_He gives her comfort. The chills. Or she wants to melt. Like now, become the rain which slowly slides down his face, soaking his clothes, touching his skin. Making him shiver, she wants that._

_He finally looks into her eyes, and the same feeling overcomes him. He wants her, he _needs_ her._

_Their lips meet, and it is same as the rain. Never the same. His lips move over hers painfully slow. The rain zigzags down the window. Her lips seek more, she wants more, she_ needs _more._

_And when their tongues meet, the rain turns into storm. It is no longer slow, but still painful. Because when they move apart, expecting to get some kind of epiphany making them realize how wrong this is, there is no shiny light from above._

_Yet the colour red. Red like roses, beautiful roses with thorns. Red like blood, the thick liquid which flows down their veins. Red like hell, or is is heaven?_

_He is sure it feels like heaven._

_Soon, they are only wrapped with darkness, and with the sound of heavy rain. The floor no longer looks like one, you can't see the beautiful wooden parquet. There are too many clothes, too many sheets, too many pillows._

_It is just them on the bed. Only them. And their hearts._

_She shivers beneath him like a butterfly in a winter night- have you ever seen one? His hands creep up her skin, but not touching it, just hovering above it. It is like fire dancing, and ice melting._

_She melts when he kisses her neck. Tenderly._

_Her hands in his hair. She pulls it, tugs at it, she wants to melt completely._

_And the fire dies, and the ice melts when their eyes meet in the darkness. She feels him, his body moulding into hers, or is her body moulding into his? She doesn't remember when she stooped breathing, but when air comes into her lungs, her deep breath making him burn with desire to have her, take her, she just feels complete._

_Their movements aren't rushed. He cares for her as her nails dig into his skin, kissing her neck in butterfly like kisses. And she wants to melt, and everything is red. Red like roses. Like blood. Hell._

_And it is heaven. Pure bliss. Sweat making their skin wet and salty, she holds him close. Just a bit more closer. And he moves the hair from her face, and smiles. His eyes, they shine with light, starlight. And she can only kiss him, making her thoughts of the world being silenced with the soft rain outside. _

_-_

It is like living in a glass house. You never know when it will break into millions of small pieces, all of them sharp and cruel.

They will cut into their hearts, and they will never forget how it was their fault.

Their hearts _will_ heal with time.

But the question is, do they have that much time?

* * *

_True, I need to be in love  
I'm lost when it's just me  
with only a hope to make  
you happy enough__  
_

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**A/N**: I am stuck in season three, and the worse thing is, I feel like my one-shots are just this big, well, little, season three series. This one plus one more, and that's that for season three.


End file.
